The Speed Date
by NoxPersona9
Summary: When John and Mary decide that Sherlock needs to find a significant other, the world's only consulting detective is subjected to a mystery even he might not be able to solve: romance. Will Sherlock finally meet his soul-mate? Or will he end up breaking every heart in London? Rated T for language and slightly suggestive themes.


**Hello, people of Fanfiction. I had taken quite a long hiatus from Fanfiction, but I've returned to the site. This is my first time writing a Sherlock fanfiction, so please tell me anything that I need to improve on. The setting of this fic takes place somewhere between Episode 2 and Episode 3 of Season 3. With that said, please review and enjoy!**

**Chapter 1: Lonely**

"Sherlock, Mary and I have been thinking-" John began.

"Your first mistake." Sherlock interrupted, "Go on."

John pursed his lips and continued.

"Sherlock, you need to meet new people - find someone you can settle down with." John said loudly over the detective's protesting groans.

"Boring." Sherlock said simply.  
"What?!" cried John incredulously.  
"Boring! I've told you already, John - I'm not the kind of person to 'settle down' or 'meet new people'. Frankly, I'm rather astounded I've kept _you_around for so long." Sherlock mused.

"And what's _that_supposed to mean?" Watson asked.  
"It means that most people who talk to me end up leaving a minute into the conversation!" Sherlock responded furiously.  
"Well, technically no. See, a conversation only works if both people are speaking and it's really hard to do that if you keep interrupting them with random obser-"  
"Mary cut your hair again, didn't she?" Sherlock quipped.

Watson tilted his head and looked scrutinizingly at Sherlock, who merely raised his eyebrows at the doctor.

"Yes. Yes, she did," Watson said finally. "But you're dodging the point again, Sher-"  
"And you haven't been following through with your diet, either. How disappointing." Sherlock smirked.  
"I was never on a diet!" Watson cried indignantly.

"Oh, please. Regression of muscle mass yet retention of body fat in the stomach indicate that you originally followed the diet. Slightly bloodshot eyes and black bags indicate late nights and vestigial traces of cookie crumbs around your lips obviously means midnight snacking, resulting in your recently deflated energy from a wasted sugar high at night and a sugar low during the day. And finally... this."

Sherlock raised a bag of carrots to John's face with the words "Proud of you! Keep it up! - ❤ Mary" written on the bag.

"Found that in your bins this morning." he explained.  
"You went through my bloody bins to pick out Mary's carrots?" John hissed, "Jesus, Sherlock - you can't just sift through my trash like that - what would the neighbors say?!"

"What would they say, indeed!" a voice exclaimed from the door.

Sherlock and John quickly spun around to find Mrs. Hudson smiling at the entrance of their flat, brandishing a dustpan.

"Ah, Mrs. Hudson. Kindly tell John that he's being ridiculous and get me a cuppa while you're at it." Sherlock said.  
"I'm not your housekeeper, dear. And I actually agree with John." she said.

"What?" the pair cried in unison.

"Mrs. Hudson, please think before you speak. You'll save face." Sherlock said testily.

"Now, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson said in a motherly tone. "You've been cooped up by yourself for God-knows-how-long. Solving crimes and spending all that time in that dreadful morgue - it's not healthy for a young man like yourself!"  
"And this is coming from the woman who ran a drug cartel." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

"It was my _husband's_ cartel. But the point is, Sherlock, that you need a loving person in your life, and with John married off-. "  
"I'm not gay!" John exclaimed.

Mrs. Hudson continued as if she never heard him, "And with John married off, you'll be awfully lonely here by yourself."  
"Well if you would just give my back my skull!" Sherlock pouted.  
"Sherlock Holmes, a skull is no replacement for a spouse!" Mrs. Hudson snapped.  
"Then what is?" Sherlock retorted.

John rolled his eyes and shook his head. Sometimes Sherlock could act like such a child, the doctor often considered beating him with a paddle and sending him to his room.

"Sherlock, just hear us out. Please." Watson said. "Have you ever heard of speed dating?"  
"Obviously. Mycroft and I played it together as children." Sherlock said.

John and Mrs. Hudson's eyes widened as they looked at each other, neither of them daring to voice their disturbing interpretations of Sherlock's comment.

"Erm... Sherlock... what exactly are you under the impression of speed dating to be?" John asked uncomfortably.  
"It's a game where one tries to discern the exact age of miscellaneous objects in the shortest amount of time possible." Sherlock said, quite bemused.  
"Oh, thank the Lord!" Mrs. Hudson said, clutching her heart.

Sherlock looked incredulously at her, raising an eyebrow at John, who simply shook his head and mouthed, "Later."

"Speed dating, Sherlock, is where one person meets a group of potential partners, one at a time, and they are given a few minutes to get to know each other. The hope is that at least one of them is a significant match for the other." John explained.  
"Hm... is that what ordinary people do for fun? I still think that my version of speed dating is less boring." Sherlock said.

"So you'll try it?" Mrs. Hudson asked hopefully.  
"What do I get out of it?" Sherlock demanded.  
"You'll find someone that you want to spend the rest of your life with - what more could you possible want?!" John cried.  
"But that's why I have my nicotine patches." Sherlock said.  
"Look just try it. What do you have to lose?" John asked.

"Hm... let's see: my time, my energy, my brain power, my patience, my self-control, my dignity, my lunch. Is that enough reason or should I go on?" Sherlock asked.  
"Brilliant. I'll phone Lestrade to tell him you're taking the weekend off." John said, clapping his hands together and getting up.

Mrs. Hudson gave a squeal of glee, clambering out the door, all the while talking about the marriage she expected to take place within the month. John followed the landlady and closed the door, leaving a befuddled Sherlock standing awkwardly in his flat.


End file.
